


Scored On His Heart

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: The Damned United (2009), United (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger, Arguing, Enemies, Football | Soccer, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rivalry, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Brian Clough and Jimmy Murphy have been rivals for years. Brian thinks Jimmy is too uptight and by the book while Jimmy thinks Brian is too unorthodox. Their rivalry is well known in the football world. Things are bound to come to a head when both agree to manage two different rookie teams for a several month long charity event.
Relationships: Brian Clough/Jimmy Murphy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not in anyway intended to be disrespectful to Brian Clough or Jimmy Murphy or their teams! This is based off Michael and David's portrayals of them, not the real people!

“The answer is no,” Jimmy said. “I’m sorry but I can’t just leave my team to train a bunch of rookies. Can’t they get someone else to do it?”

“They asked for you specifically,” Freddie Blake, his assistant coach, replied. “Us, specifically. The team will be fine without us once we find a suitable substitute.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes and blew a ring of smoke into the sky, then crushed the cigarette into the nearby ashtray. He and Freddie were inside one of the stadium’s luxury boxes, overlooking the empty stands. Freddie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, then adjusted his cufflinks. 

“Jimmy, come on,” he said. “It would do you some good, taking a break from the big leagues and coaching some fresh young starts. They’d really absorb what you have to teach them.”

“They can do that with anyone,” Jimmy retorted. “I have better things to do.”

“No, you don’t,” Freddie replied flatly. “You just don’t want to do this.”

“Exactly,” Jimmy agreed, tapping Freddie’s chest. “Good talk, mate.”

He left the luxury box and Freddie jogged to catch up with him. He managed to corner Jimmy at the elevator and the other man rolled his eyes at his friend’s persistency. They entered the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. 

“Who else did they get for this thing anyway?” Jimmy asked. “How many teams?”

“Twenty teams, lads handpicked from university teams from around Britain,” Freddie explained. “So far they’ve found managers for seventeen of them, but the team from Bristol still needs one.”

“And they requested me?” Jimmy arched an eyebrow as the elevator doors opened. 

“Yes,” Freddie replied. “They requested you.”

Jimmy shook his head as he exited the elevator with Freddie in tow. The other man had been trying to get him to take him up on the idea of managing the rookie team for the last week. It was part of a charity event taking place in Manchester. Jimmy couldn’t remember what it was for.

“What’s this charity even about?” he asked Freddie. “Where’s the money going?”

“It’s to help schools around England improve their sports programs,” Freddie explained. “Give kids access to better equipment and stuff like that.”

“It’s a good cause,” Jimmy conceded. “But I’m sure they can live without me.”

“Come on, Jimmy,” Freddie pleaded. “It won’t kill you to do this. It might even help you, paint you in a better light with the press.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes as he and Freddie reached the exit. Jimmy put his hand on the door handle but Freddie stopped him.

“Jim, please,” he said. “They’ve gotten other managers to do this-Howard Skye, Peter Rays, Jake Levy.”

“All fine managers,” Jimmy agreed. “I’m sure one of them will be able to help those Bristol boys.”

He pushed open the door and outside into the brisk air. Freddie sighed and muttered something under his breath. 

“Brian Clough,” he said.

Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks, halfway across the parking lot. That name. He turned around to face Freddie again.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“Brian Clough,” Freddie repeated. “He’s one of the managers that agreed to be part of the event. He’s in charge of a team from Cardiff.”

Jimmy clenched his fists. Brian Clough. That name sent his blood boiling through his veins. 

“That has-been player agreed to be part of this?” he demanded. “Why? So he can show off his disregard for the rules and do whatever he wants?”

“He joined immediately,” Freddie replied. “The Cardiff team asked for him.”

“They must not have very high standards or hope to win anything,” Jimmy scoffed. 

Freddie nodded in numb agreement. He hadn’t wanted to play this card but knew it was the only way to get Jimmy to agree. 

“How long is this event?” Jimmy asked. 

“A couple months,” Freddie replied. “The teams will be staying at hotels near the stadium in Manchester, all expenses paid. The event kicks off after New Year’s though. The first few months will be devoted to training and letting the players and managers get to know each other.”

“And Clough agreed,” Jimmy mused. “Probably did it for his overgrown ego.”  


“Yeah,” Freddie agreed. “So what do you say, Jimmy? Will you do it?”

Jimmy stroked his chin and smiled to himself. The idea of facing off against Clough, that was too good to pass up.

“I’ll do it,” he told Freddie. “I’ll coach those Bristol boys.” He smirked. “And then I’ll finally take Clough’s ego and shove it down his bloody throat.”

“That’s great to hear,” Freddie said. “Should I call and let them know?”

“Yes,” Jimmy agreed. 

Freddie took out his mobile and called up the Bristol team. They were overjoyed that Jimmy had agreed to be their manager. After that, Jimmy informed his team that while the Premier League wasn’t until the summer, they shouldn’t stop their training in his absence. He promised to make sure that they were in capable hands while he and Freddie were away. 

“Can I ask you something, sir?” Freddie asked Jimmy as they left the stadium after briefing the team.

“Yeah, sure,” Jimmy replied. 

Freddie licked his lips a little. Jimmy arched his eyebrows as he leaned against his car in the parking lot.

“Are you just doing this because Brian Clough is part of it?” Freddie asked.

Jimmy sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, Fred. Yeah, he’s part of it. I want to help that team but I also want to wipe the pitch with Clough.”

“But why?” Freddie asked. “Why do you hate him so much?”

Jimmy’s grip on his keys tightened and he bit his lip. He disliked Clough for so many reasons-his arrogance, his disregard for the rules, his cockiness. He knew Brian hated him too for different reasons. Their rivalry was well known to the press and even other managers. People made jokes about it all the time. 

“Clough and I have always hated each other,” Jimmy finally told Freddie. “We always will. Besides, I think our rivalry will bring more attention to this charity event.”

Freddie shook his head. “If you say so.”

He walked off to his own car while Jimmy got into his own. He drove home, thinking about how great it would be to finally wipe that smug smile off of Brian Clough’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun shone bright and blinding in the blue sky, the air cool and brisk. Brian Clough stood at the entrance and breathed in the smell of the fresh-cut grass. Even though the stands were empty, he felt like he could feel the excitement in the air, sharp and electric. He put his hands on his hips and sighed as he looked around. He could almost hear the crowd cheering already. 

“It never gets old, does it, eh, Pete?” Brian said. “Standing here like this, even with the fans not here, everything still feels electric.”

“You’re right, Brian,” Peter Taylor agreed. “During the game you never actually get to bask in the moment.”

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. He looked around again, just as the players started to enter from the other side, wearing white-and-purple jerseys. 

Brian smiled as he watched them enter. They were all young men, most of them prime age to enter professional football already. He’d been more than happy to accept the invitation to manage them during the charity event. Pete had agreed to come along too, as it had been a long time since they’d worked together. Brain was also eager for a change of scenery, having been stuck in a rut ever since his sacking and divorce almost a year ago.

“Look at ‘em, Pete,” Brian said as the players filed in. “Almost reminds me of the Derby teams back in the day.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “I still can’t believe they asked for you.”

“Us,” Brian corrected. “They ask for me, they also get you.”

Peter smiled and Brian did as well. It felt good to work with someone he trusted again. Peter had been there for him during his divorce and the custody arrangement for the children. Suddenly, one the Cardiff players looked in their direction and tapped one of the others. Several of them looked over, pointing and talking amongst themselves like they were excited.

“Seems they’ve noticed us,” Peter said. 

“Indeed,” Brian agreed. “Let’s go.”

He and Peter walked across the pitch toward the team, who suddenly started shoving and nudging each other as Brian and Peter approached. Several of the players all stood up straight like they were in the military while others stood with their hands behind their backs or clasped in front of them. 

“Good morning, lads,” Brain said. “I’m sure I don’t need to introduce myself but I will anyway just to get the pleasantries out of the way. My name is Brian Clough and this is my dear friend and assistant manager Peter Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you, lads,” Peter said with a nod. 

Most of the team all responded with nods or waves and hellos as well. Brian clapped his hands and rubbed them together. 

“Right, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk, lads,” he said. “Now, show of hands, how many of you were already playing football in school before this event?”

Almost every hand went up. Brain nodded. “And I’m sure some of you were captains or star players and have your own mindsets and rules coaches or your fathers or someone else has already instilled in you.”

Most of the players nodded again. Brian stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Well, at this moment, I want you to forget about all of that,” he said. “Toss whatever you were taught out the bloody window and listen to me. I don’t care if any of you are star players back in your hometowns or have dreams of joining Manchester United or Liverpool or even fucking Arsenal. Here and now, during this event, you’re rookies. I will not be giving any of you special treatment nor will Peter. Understand?”

The team nodded, though some of them had expressions of confusion or bewilderment on their faces. Brian clapped his hands again loudly, making a few of the players jump. 

“Now, let’s see what you lot have got,” he said. “I’m going to divide you up into teams of five, have you play against each other.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at a player with the number twelve on his jersey. “You, change your shirt and be the goalie on this side.” He pointed at another player with the number nine. “You do the same and be the goalie for the other side.”

“But I’m not a goalie,” the player said indignantly. “I’m a striker, always have been.”

“Well, now you’re a goalie,” Brian replied flatly. “Change your shirt.”

The player, a young man with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes, glared at Brian before obeying. Brian shook his head and divided up the remaining players, then kicked them the ball they’d brought out with them.

“Play like this is a real game,” he told them. “But don’t pull any of the 50/50 crap or I’ll bench you before the first game of the event. Do I make myself clear?”

The team nodded and Brian smiled. “Have at it, boys. Keep things clean.”

As they began playing, Brian and Peter watched from the sideline, keeping an eye on things, Brian occasionally yelling something to one of them. Many of the boys clearly had talent. Brian was so immersed in watching them that he didn’t notice Peter trying to get his attention until the other man flicked his ear.

“Hey, fuck off,” Brian grumbled, rubbing his ear. “What are you doing?”

“I was just trying to ask you how the kids are gonna get here,” Peter said. “Doesn’t your custody arrangement allow you to have them every other weekend?”

“Yeah,” Brian answered. “They’ll be coming here for the first game. I’ll pick them up at the train station if I can.”

“If you can’t, I will,” Peter offered. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen them anyway.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Brian said. 

They smiled at each other. The team played for another hour before Brian called them back. 

“It’s clear you lads have talent, all of you,” he said. “Don’t let that go to your heads. Now, I think it’s time I learned your names.”

One by one, the players introduced themselves and told Brian and Peter where they were from, how long they’d played football for. One player however, Brian noticed, number ten, was kind of quiet. He never answered Brian when he’d been asked for his name. He just stared at the ground. Brian raised his eyebrows.

“All of you except number ten go start running drills,” he instructed. 

The team obeyed and number ten looked nervous as Brian invited him to sit down on the bench.

“What’s your name, wallflower?” Brian asked.

“Dani,” the player said. “Dani Lake, sir. I’m from South Hampton and I’m nineteen years old.”

“Most footballers your age are pretty arrogant and full of themselves,” Brian said. “Never have I met one as shy as you, Dani Lake. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing, sir,” Dani said, nervously rubbing his thighs, flipping his dark hair off his forehead. “It’s just that...I’ve never played in a huge stadium like this before or in front of so many people.” He sighed. “I’m scared, terrified even. Especially after the first team I tried to join here didn’t take me.” His eyes flickered. “No offense, sir.”

“None taken,” Brian said. “What was your first choice team, anyway?”

“Bristol,” Dani replied. “They have Jimmy Murphy as their manager.”  
As soon Brian heard that name, he felt anger surge up inside him. Jimmy Murphy was going to be here? He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“You’re better off here with me,” he told Dani. “You wouldn’t want to play under someone like Jimmy-bloody-Murphy. He’s too by the book, got no ambition or even a sense of humor. Plus he’s got a stick so far up his arse he can’t bloody sit down!”

Dani laughed and his skittish veneer seemed to vanish. “Then I’m glad I’m here with your team, sir. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“Good lad,” Brian said, squeezing Dani’s shoulder. “Go on, get out there.”

Dani smiled and bounded onto the pitch to join the others. Brian came and stood by Peter again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that Jimmy Murphy was part of this event?” Brian demanded. 

Peter sighed. “Because I knew you’d get like this. I was going to tell you, but only after you agreed to manage this team.”

“What?” Brian asked.

“I knew if I told you before, you’d just want to sign on so you could beat Jimmy,” Peter explained. “I figured I’d wait till after to tell you, once I was sure you were doing this out of your own heart.”

Brian wanted to protest but knew his friend was right. “Well, I guess I know now. Lake just told me he tried to join the Welshman’s team first but they didn’t take him.”

“Why not?” Peter asked.

“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask,” Brian replied. “But you know what this means now, Pete?” When the other man shook his head, Brian grinned and shook his shoulder. “It means that I’ve got more motivation to do this now! We can build this team up and then wipe the pitch with Murphy’s, eh?”

“If we win,” Peter said. “We have to beat other teams and move up the bracket. Jimmy’s team will have to do the same.”

Brian’s eyes gleamed. “Then let’s move up the bracket, Pete!”


	3. Chapter 3

The opening ceremony for the event dawned bright and airy, like Mother Nature itself was excited for the games and ensured the weather was perfect. The stadium was packed to capacity while crowds gathered outside of it, watching the ceremony from the large screen mounted outside. Jimmy could hear the crowds from where he stood with Freddie in one of the locker rooms, among several other managers. They were each expected to give a short speech once the director of the event had spoken. 

“I’m so nervous,” Freddie said, wringing his hands. “I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“Just relax, Freddie,” Jimmy chided, straightening his friend’s tie. “Your nerves are normal. It just means you're excited.”

“I think I might throw up,” Freddie admitted. “Is that normal too?”

“Yes. Just try not to though. You got through winning MVP when you were on that American team.”

“I threw up after the ceremony,” Freddie pointed out. “Five minutes after I got that trophy.”

Jimmy patted his assistant manager’s chest. “Just try to hold that in until after the speeches, yeah?”

Freddie nodded, licking his lips. Jimmy smiled at him and looked around the locker room at the other managers standing around, dressed in suits like himself and Freddie or more casually in Polo shirts and trousers. Some of them Jimmy recognized from club gatherings or even games against their respective League teams. He’d already gotten a few dirty looks from them. Luckily, Brian Clough wasn’t in this particular locker room. Jimmy clenched his fists at the thought of that man. He knew Clough was there somewhere, in another part of the stadium perhaps. Music suddenly swelled from outside, and the crowds’ cheering nearly shook the walls.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time now to meet the managers of these rookie teams,” the announcer said, voice echoing over the cheering. “Get a good look at the faces who will either be shining with success, or shaded by defeat!”

Freddie swallowed audibly. Jimmy patted his shoulder and squeezed it briefly. 

“Showtime,” he said, eyes gleaming as he smiled.

Freddie nodded and smiled timidly. Jimmy shook his shoulder before turning around and following the other managers out of the locker room. The music and cheering grew louder as they walked down the corridor, towards the light at the end. Jimmy was momentarily blinded by the sunlight as he stepped out of the darkness, but it cleared up as he absorbed the sights and sounds all around him. Fans of all sorts of genders and age and races filled the stands, waving flags and holding scarfs and signs emblazoned with team names or numbers. They were all chanting various songs from different teams or even national anthems. Jimmy’s blood tingled and he could feel the electric energy in the air, taste the adrenaline.

He and the other managers walked across the neat pitch in a line, waving and smiling at the crowd and the photographers along the sidelines. They reached a large stage in the center of the pitch, decorated with flags from the various countries-Wales, England, Scotland, and Ireland. The teams were standing on the pitch in groups beneath flags representing where they were from. Jimmy spotted the Bristol team and waved at them, earning a view waves back. He and the other managers walked up the small stairs at the right side of the stage and stood behind a podium.

“This is amazing,” Freddie said, leaning closer to Jimmy. “All these people, here just for a charity event.”

“Football unites people, Freddie,” Jimmy replied. “Doesn’t matter what it is or what the circumstances are. We all love the beautiful game.”

Freddie nodded in agreement. The crowd suddenly started cheering louder. Jimmy turned his head and spotted the other managers walking out of the left side entrance. They were too far away for him to make any out, but then as they got closer, he saw who was leading them: Brian Clough. He wore a sharp navy suit and tie, his dark hair tousled carelessly by the wind. He smiled and waved at the crowd, looking very at home. Jimmy clenched his fists, feeling anger simmering already.

“Easy, Jimmy,” Freddie warned, squeezing his arm. “He’s not even doing anything. Just ignore him. Focus on why we’re actually here, alright?”

“Right,” Jimmy agreed absently.

He was too busy watching Clough climb the opposite staircase, his assistant manager Peter Taylor behind him. How the hell were they both here? What would Clough want with a bunch of rookies? Jimmy kept staring as Clough and the others stood side by side behind the podium, a few feet from where Jimmy himself was standing. Clough was looking around but didn’t seem to notice the daggers shooting at him from Jimmy’s eyes. Jimmy’s gaze was finally interrupted when a young woman dressed in a black suit and heels appeared on the stage, her long auburn hair falling past her shoulders as she tapped the microphone at the podium. The cheering died down as silence fell over the stadium.

“Thank you for coming here and for those of you watching from your homes, all over the world,” the woman began in an accent Jimmy thought sounded like North London. “My name is Katherine Hines and I am the director of the first annual Sports For All Charity game. I am very grateful to introduce the managers who have been kind enough to manage twelve rookie teams from all over Britain.”

She read their names off one by one, cheering following it as each manager waved. Jimmy didn’t recognize as many names as he’d thought he’d would. He was better at faces most of the time. 

“Brian Howard Clough,” Katherine read. “He and Peter Taylor are the managers for a team of fine young men from Cardiff, Wales.”

Clough and Peter waved after she said their names. Jimmy watched them, hearing a mixture of booing amongst the cheers from the crowd. Clearly not everyone had forgotten Clough’s brief stint with Leeds, nor his other struggles documented in the tabloids. Katherine began reading the remaining names for Jimmy’s side of the stage.

“Jimmy Murphy and his new assistant manager Freddie Blake,” she said. “They’ve put their Premier League practices in good hands so they could be here and be a part of this event, managing a team from Bristol.”

Jimmy and Freddie both waved as the crowd cheered. The Welshman saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced sideways. Clough was staring at him, eyes bright with challenge and a hint of something else. His jaw was clenched as were his fists. Quickly though, when he met Jimmy’s eyes, he smiled, flicking his tongue out across his lips. Was that a taunt? Jimmy growled and Freddie squeezed his arm again.

“Ignore him,” the other man whispered firmly. “Please.”

Jimmy grunted in acknowledgement and turned away from Clough, forcing his fists to unclench. He felt Clough’s gaze linger before Katherine began speaking again.

“Now, I’ve asked each manager to give a small speech as to why they wanted to part of this event.”

One by one, starting with Jimmy’s side this time, each manager gave a speech. When it was Jimmy’s turn, he adjusted his tie and stepped confidently up to the podium.

“I’ve led many players to victory,” he said. “I’ve helped them through grief and tough losses, even their own personal struggles. Football is competitive but it’s meant to be fun. Being part of this event is important to me because I want to unite people, no matter how different they are. Because one thing about football is clear: it unites us and has always united us. My boys from Bristol will be a shining example of that.”

The crowd cheered and clapped as Jimmy stepped away from the podium, smiling at Freddie, who grinned back. Jimmy glanced to his side and spotted Clough whispering something to Peter, then proceeding to laugh about whatever had been said. Jimmy gritted his teeth and stood beside Freddie again. Clough swaggered up to the podium and tapped the microphone.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” he said. “That maybe I’m doing this to makeup for Leeds, or to paint myself in a more...flattering light after all that’s been said about me in the papers and online. But no. I have nothing to prove to anyone, not a random fan or another player or a bloody Tory. I rebuilt Leeds and I’ll build these Welsh boys up from the ground and show them that underdogs can win, especially with such…” He sucked his teeth. “Easy competition. No offense to Bristol though.”

The crowd laughed or whooped as Clough stepped away from the podium and stood beside Peter again. He shot Jimmy a look that could only be described as cocky and smug at the same time. Jimmy pretended not to see. Katherine stepped up to the podium again once the last manager had finished talking.

“Thank you very much, gentlemen,” she said. “The first game of this event will kick off at nine tomorrow morning. The teams facing each other are Cardiff and Newcastle. We all look forward to see who will prevail and move on to the next rounds. Thank everyone for watching and good luck to the teams tomorrow.”

“Finally,” Freddie said when the opening ceremony ended. 

“Still feel like throwing up?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah,” Freddie admitted. “I can’t help it. My nerves keep getting the best of me.”

He coughed and heaved forward a little, then ran off across the pitch, back toward the locker room where they’d come in. Jimmy jogged after him and reached it just as Freddie vanished inside and slammed the door. Jimmy stood outside and waited, listening to his poor friend retching and coughing. The guy had always had trouble with being nervous in crowds or stressful situations. But he was still a good man either way and incredibly helpful to Jimmy. A few minutes later, Freddie exited the locker room, looking embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah,” Freddie croaked. “Sorry.”

Jimmy squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, mate. I know you can’t help it. Let’s get some air, yeah?”

Freddie nodded in agreement and they walked outside the stadium, luckily finding an empty spot as the crowd began to disperse. Freddie leaned against the wall and sighed, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ll try not to do this during the games,” he promised. “If I do I’ll just hide from the cameras.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Jimmy suggested. “This has been going on for a long time. Maybe there’s some medicine or something you could take to stop this.”

Freddie nodded in agreement, wiping his lips. His eyes suddenly widened as he looked past Jimmy, over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked.

“Nothing,” Freddie replied quickly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He turned to leave but then Jimmy heard footsteps approaching him from behind. Then a voice spoke.

“Assistant manager can’t take the heat, eh?”

Jimmy whipped around as Clough walked toward him, a smirk on his lips. Anger burned in the Welshman’s chest.

“What are you doing here, Clough?” Jimmy spat. “Shouldn’t you be destroying some other team right now?”

“Big talk from a guy who’s own lackey can’t hold his lunch,” Clough sniped back. “What’s he gonna do for your team? Shine their shoes?”

“Brian, come on,” Peter Taylor implored, tugging at Clough’s arm. “Let’s just go.”

“Listen to your friend, Clough,” Jimmy growled. “Don’t start what you can’t bloody finish.”

Clough shook Peter’s hand off and marched closer to Jimmy, until they were mere inches from each other.

“What are you gonna do, Welshman?” Clough challenged. “Beat me with the stick up your arse?”

Jimmy snarled and clenched his right hand into a fist, swinging right for Clough’s jaw. The other man ducked and stepped back, raising his own fists. 

“Come on, Welshman, let’s see if you can fight better than you manage a team,” Clough mocked. 

Jimmy growled and charged, but Freddie got between them just as Peter stood in front of Brian, both trying to keep the two men from attacking each other. 

“I hope you do win the game tomorrow, Clough,” Jimmy yelled. “That way I can have the privilege of wiping the pitch with you, you son of bitch!”

“I’d like to see you fucking try,” Brian shouted back. “When’s the last time you even beat someone without going to penalties?”

Jimmy strained to get at him but Freddie held him back firmly. Peter did the same with Brian. Suddenly though, a woman spoke.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Katherine Hines marched over, heels clicking against the pavement. All four men instantly composed themselves as she approached.

“Nothing going on, Miss Hines,” Clough said breezily. “Just a bit of a disagreement.”

“Your silver tongue won’t work on me, Mr. Clough,” Katherine told him. “I know your reputation. And yours, Mr. Murphy. I expect both of you to remain professional during this event or there will be consequences. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy said.

“Crystal,” Clough replied.

Katherine stared at them shrewdly before she walked off. Jimmy stared at Clough with contempt, anger and something more primal coursing hotly through his body before both were ushered away by their assistant managers.


End file.
